No Words
by Phoebsfan
Summary: Max returns from Manticore, angst ensuses. DARK! VERY MUCH SO! NOT FOR THOSE LIGHT OF HEART!


No Words

Disclaimer: If I owned them this would not result.

Summery: ANGST! DARKNESS! DEATH! NOT HAPPY! NOT FLUFF!  Max comes back from Manticore angst ensues.

Rating PG-13 for violence 

AN: I'm sorry. Truly I am. I don't know where this came from.  blame pre-emption madness and computer problems.  Or just shoot the messenger.  Don't really care much either way.  Swore I wouldn't do this but I had no choice in the matter. My muse has held me captive.

"Max?" her name slipped from his lips like honey.  It had been so long.  He had been so worried.  And now to have her standing in front of him, whole, it was almost too much to bear.  

Manticore had taken her from him, she had died in his arms, how then could she be standing in front of him?  No she was gone.  The Max he knew was gone.  Even if they had somehow brought her back, she was gone to him.  Losing her once hurt him deeply; losing her again would kill him.

He'd had dreams like this before.  Dreams where she came back to him and he held her.  Dreams where they finished what they had started that night more then three months ago.  But they were only dreams, as this must also be.

Her hand brushed his face, and he knew that this was not a dream.

How he had ever managed to rationalize it as one was now clearly beyond his understanding.

He pulled her closed and she obliged by sitting in lap.  That had been his first mistake.

Something was wrong, she didn't speak, she didn't cry, and even the way in which she clung to him seemed unnatural.  But he was so overjoyed at seeing her again he failed to notice it.  

"Max." he repeated, knowing that this time she really was here, that this time she could hear his tortured cries; she could touch the tears that streamed down his face.  This time he could hold her and have her hold him back.

Still she did not speak.

"Max, what's wrong?" he asked brushing a strand of hair from her face and placing a kiss on her cheek.

When his eyes locked with hers he knew it was too late.  He knew his fate lay in her soft, but very capable hands.

She had the eyes of a hunter; she had the eyes of a killer.  

Knowing it was too late for him to do anything, he pulled her too him and sealed a final kiss on her full ripe lips as the blade sunk into his stomach.

He wished that she hadn't.

Not for his sake, but for hers.  If she ever remembered what had been before, it would ruin her.  And as he slowly started to slip away from consciousness he couldn't help but feel guilty for what would happen if she remembered.  He couldn't help but feel like her killer.

Max sat on his lap long after his time was spent.

His eyes had been so haunted, his voice so real, she could have sworn she'd met him somewhere before.

But she couldn't have.

His blood stained her hands, stained the blade.  Should she find it so unsettling?  She'd killed before, why should he be any different then the others.

Because he'd known her name.

Because he'd known her heart, he knew that she would kill him yet he did not fight it.  He did not plead for his life.  He only kissed her.

Why had he done so?

Was it the last minute wish of a lonely man, or did it mean more?  

Somehow she felt as if it meant more.

Walking to the sink in his kitchen she washed the blood from her hands.  But she could not wash it from her soul.  Killing him had shaken her.

She was not easily shaken.

She was not easily shaken.

Still.

She was weak.  Flawed.  She had to be.  Why was she even thinking this way?

Then suddenly she knew.

Taking the blade in her hands once more she returned to her position on his lap and kissed his cold lifeless lips once more remembering a time when they had not been able to hide his passion.  A time when they had held hers with no complaint.

Still she did not speak.

Tears slipped through her veiled eyes as she slipped the blade further into its destination.

Long hours she waited as her blood mixed with his in the puddle collecting on the floor.

Together, they'd finally be together.

Slowly she closed her eyes, no longer the eyes of a killer, no longer the eyes of a hunter, but the eyes that belonged singularly to Max Guevara, they eyes he had so wanted to find.

As the last of her strength was spent, she slipped quickly into the darkness.

The sun peaked out of the dark clouds, shining its rays on the two lifeless would be lovers as the darkness engulfed her.  


End file.
